The Slayer Chronicles - Anne
by Spectre
Summary: Giles' first encounter with a Slayer...and it's not Buffy.


The Slayer Chronicles:

The Slayer Chronicles:

Anne

The little boy crept nearer to the top of the staircase. Darkness wrapped itself around him, hiding him from the people downstairs. He was careful to be very quiet. If they knew he was up here, listening in…well, his father would thrash him within an inch of his life.

To other little boys, this would be enough of a deterrent. But those little boys didn't have families as interesting as his. His father was someone important and so was his father's mother. They belonged to an organization dedicated to the destruction of monsters. His father had never told him what he did because the little boy knew it was top secret. So the little boy never mentioned it to his friends or to his mother, although he suspected his mother must know.

The little boy crept even close to the edge of the stairs. He could see a light on in his father's study. His father and grandmother were the only ones in there along with a man by the name of John Travers. The little boy was a friend of Mr. Travers' son Quentin. The voices sounded grave and slightly upset.

"This is insane!" his father whispered loudly. "We can't do this to the poor girl! She's suffered enough!"

"What other choice do we have, old friend?" Mr. Travers' whispered back. "The girl is no good to us in her present condition."

"That's very cold. The girl has tried," his grandmother said, not bothering to whisper. His grandmother didn't care for niceties when she was upset. So he knew this had to be big.

He heard something slam, like a hand against a desk. "Tried! She didn't try at all! She just gave up." Mr. Travers sounded like he was ready to explode.

The little boy's curiosity was really getting the better of him. He crept down one stair, still well out of reach of the light.

"She wasn't prepared enough. The day she found out about her destiny was the day she even heard about vampires. Somehow she slipped through our net." His grandmother was fighting for calm, but the little boy could feel her despair.

"That's no excuse! A Slayer should not behave in such a manner upon learning her destiny. This has happened before, long before we perfected our technique of finding Slayers. Girls would learn of their destinies the day they received their gifts, and none have ever behaved like this!" Mr. Travers hit his hand against the desk again.

"She is only 15 years old!" His grandmother yelled. The little boy had never heard his grandmother yell. 

"And she saw a vampire and lost her mind!" Mr. Travers yelled back.

"Stop it, both of you! You'll wake my wife and son!" His father whispered harshly. 

He looked fearfully behind him, expecting to see his mother come out of her bedroom. She didn't. Her door remained closed. The little boy looked back to the open door of his father's study, he was afraid they would close the door or whisper too quietly to hear from his perch on the top stair. He slunk down three more stairs. He had never been this close before.

"It's all my fault," his grandmother whispered brokenly. "I am her Watcher. I should have found her sooner. I should have waited longer before allowing her to come face-to-face with a vampire."

"Mother, it's not your fault. Anne Winters just wasn't strong enough for the fate that awaited her. She lived in that tiny little village in upper England; she was very cloistered. It wasn't her destiny to be a great Slayer."

"Oh, my son, it is. I told her who she was and what she was capable of one afternoon. That night I take her to a graveyard and expect her to slay a vampire. She took one look at the vampire…" the little boy's grandmother stopped suddenly and the little boy had the awful feeling that she was crying. "She took one look at that vampire and started screaming. She _never_ stopped. I had to kill the vampire and spent the next two days trying to get her to calm down. She _never_ did."

"Mother…" his father trailed off. 

"Yes," Mr. Travers interrupted. "The girl went completely mad. We had to put her in an asylum. She might hurt someone. She is still the Slayer, possessed of all the gifts that comes with the title."

There was a long pause. "Is there any hope for the girl?" His father said very quietly.

"No. The girl will remain in the insane asylum for the rest of her life." Mr. Travers said gravely.

There was an even longer pause. "So we have no choice then," his father said.

"As I tried to tell you both earlier…no," Mr. Travers said tiredly. "We need a functioning Slayer and we need her now. Anne is no good to us as she is. We have to terminate the girl."

The little boy heard his grandmother crying in earnest now. "The poor girl. She didn't choose this. She didn't want this. And here we are discussing killing the girl because she refuses to be what we want her to be."

The little boy froze. He had heard his father and grandmother discussing vampires and demons before and once in awhile he would hear a girl's name. Whenever a girl's name was mentioned, the little boy got the impression that they were talking about a tool. As if the girl were an object and not a person. He never knew quite what to make of that.

"When will the deed be done, Travers?" His grandmother sounded much calmer now, more like herself. 

"As soon as possible. I will notify the Board and they will dispatch one of our special operatives." There was a pause. "It's better this way. She would not want to spend the rest of her life in an asylum screaming about vampires and demons."

"Yes, let's do keep telling _ourselves_ that. Maybe it will help us sleep at night." His grandmother sounded bitter.

"Mother, I understand how you feel. She was placed under your care but this is for the best. We can't have her screaming about vampires for the rest of her life."

"I know, dear. It's just that…I keep thinking of her as last I saw her. She was in her cell - it was too small to be called a room, I know she was too dangerous to be put with the other patients - she was in a straightjacket and she was _howling_. It was inhuman sounding. It was full of pain and suffering. Everything inside of her was broken. Anne Winters was gone and in her place was a madwoman."

The little boy had horrible images of a young girl tied up in an asylum screaming and tearing at her skin and hair with blood red claws. Sleep would be a long time coming tonight. What terrified him even more was that his father and grandmother were agreeing to a young girl's death.

"That's why we should put her to rest. Let her have some peace." Mr. Travers said almost kindly.

"Yes, give Anne some peace." His grandmother agreed.

The little boy heard sounds of movement and knew that the meeting was over. He scampered back up the stairs and hid in the shadows at the top of the stairs. He saw his father, grandmother and Mr. Travers come out of the study. His grandmother looked completely composed. You would never guess that she had been crying only scant minutes before.

His family escorted Mr. Travers to the door. Mr. Travers pulled on his coat and turned back to his grandmother. "I will let you know when it's done."

Mr. Travers opened the door and then turned back to his friends once more. "I say, Edward, have you talked to your son yet? And what awaits him?"

The little boy leaned forward slightly. What was this?

"No, John, I haven't. I had originally thought he was too young as yet. I wanted to wait until he was a bit older. But now, I'm beginning to think that the time has come to talk to him."

The little boy saw his grandmother frown. "What has changed your mind? I thought you weren't going to talk to Rupert until he was fifteen."

To Rupert's horror, his father turned around and stared at his hiding spot. "Rupert, come down here."

Rupert Giles knew better than to disobey his father. He slowly stood up and came quietly down the stairs.

His grandmother gaped. "Good lord, Edward! He heard!"

Edward Giles nodded his head gravely. "Yes. And I think he and I better have a long talk."

"Very well then. Edward, Elizabeth, I bid you goodnight." Mr. Travers inclined his head and disappeared out into the night.

Rupert swallowed hard. It would be a long night. He would learn of his own destiny and what was expected of him. The more he heard, the less he liked it. And all the while his father spoke to him of Watchers and Slayers, young Rupert Giles could only think of Anne Winters, a short lived Vampire Slayer. 

After he went to bed, all Rupert could hear were Anne's screams. They haunted him for many years. He would also remember the day his father received the call informing him that Anne was dead. His father didn't have to say a word; Rupert could read his body language. 

Rupert wondered if the girl felt any pain and asked his father that very question. 

"First rule of being a Watcher, Rupert: do _not_ become emotionally attached to the girl in your charge. Slayers have a very short life span and you can not do your job correctly if you are constantly worrying about your Slayer being in pain or unhappy. If you become emotionally attached, if you worry about her every feeling, you can not ensure that she lives a long time."

Rupert wondered how you could keep someone alive if you didn't worry about them but decided not to ask his father that question. Instead, he read about Anne in a small, insignificant article in a newspaper. The headline read: "Girl hangs herself in Asylum room." The article went on to explain that the girl somehow broke free of her restraints and fashioned a noose out of bed sheets. Rupert knew the real story, Watcher operatives had probably knocked her unconscious and hung her. He prayed that she never felt a thing.

Rupert would eventually break away from his father and everything his father stood for. He would run with a wild crowd for some time. Raising demons, doing black magic, fighting the 'white hats.' But always he would return to thinking about young Anne Winters. Since her there had probably been a dozen Slayers and he often wondered about every one of them.

Finally he couldn't stand it anymore. He had to see for himself. The insane asylum where Anne Winters spent the remainder of her life had been closed for a few years now. Stories of patients being mistreated had filtered out into society and the place had been shut down. The building just stood there now, empty and haunted. 

All records pertaining to the asylum had been transferred to the neighboring town's city hall. It had only been a matter of charm and patience to get the records that would indicate which room in the massive building had belonged to Anne. Because of her violent tendencies, her room (or cell, as his grandmother had called it) was located in the wing that housed all violent patients, usually criminals. 

He found Anne's room, with no trouble. He stood in the doorway, afraid to enter and it had been a long time since he had been afraid of anything. The room was very small. The bed frame was still there but the mattress was long gone. The walls were very gray and very dismal. There was an extraordinarily tiny window high on one wall. Hardly any light could get through and there was no electric light anywhere in the room.

Anne had been all alone in the dark. He imagined she hated the dark, which was where the vampires lived. He felt an overwhelming sense of sadness. That poor girl never had a chance to have a life and his father, grandmother, and their friend had her killed because she didn't want the life they wanted her to live. 

He stepped inside the room, fully expecting a paranormal assault. Ghosts normally haunted places that held sadness for them. Asylums were usually haunted because of the madness that lived in its walls. Nothing happened. Anne wasn't here like he expected. She had moved on.

Rupert couldn't help but smile in relief. Anne, the Vampire Slayer was at peace. She wasn't screaming any more. Or had she been screaming all of these years? Maybe his grandmother and father and Mr. Travers had been right in letting her die, she would find no peace in life knowing what lay in the dark. Maybe the screaming had been all in his own head. He had been screaming at the unfairness of his own fate. Anne had been unable to face hers and she had gone mad. He had run from his fate, maybe that was worse than going mad. At least there was some honor in madness. Maybe it was time for him to face his own destiny.

He turned to leave the tiny room. "Goodbye Anne. God bless."


End file.
